A Neveraine's work is never done
by Kojiokida2
Summary: OC Balthazar the Argonian Warrior, also recently called Neveraine and Hortator, comes to reazlise that his duty did not end at the death of Dagoth Ur
1. Prologue

"What a fool, I'm a god!" Dagoth laughed As Balthazar dived to the side, avoiding a potent blast of Magicka. "How can you kill a god? What an intoxicating innocence, there is no escape" Even from behind the gold mask, Balthazar could see the evil in his eyes. Dagoth, corrupted by power, was no longer lord Nerevar's trusted friend and ally. He had to put an end to this, to settle a dispute centuries old. "No Recall or intervention can work in this place." Fine by him, there was no retreat this time. It was, as he told the Ashlander tribes, Victory or death. And personally, he did not prefer the latter. "Come, lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy." 

"NEVER!" Balthazar focused the power of the Shard bolt ring he was wearing under Wraith guard, a powerful focused burst of frost Magicka flying toward his opponent. Who simply laughed as it bounced off him. 

Dagoth darted forward his amazing speed, landing a punch directly in the Argonians jaw, knocking him through the air and over the side of the platform. Balthazar landed with a loud thud on the outstretched arm of the partially completed Akulakhan. His sight wavering for a few moments, he remained still until he regained himself. But Dagoth was quickly descending the spiral path toward him, both hands burning with energy from the heart. His thousands of minions crouched in the crevices, watching with sheer delight as the lord of Red Mountain hunted their worst enemy. 

With the hammer Sunder tight in his grasp, and the short blade Keening close by. He knew that there was only one chance of defeating Dagoth. As Vivec had said, the bounds the Tribunal had on the great heart also fuelled Dagoth Ur. Free the heart, and the great enemy of Tamriel would be destroyed. However, doing so was proving to be no easy task. 

"I really wish Nerevar could had made sure this N'wah was dead before dying." He muttered to himself. Then realized that he was, technically, insulting himself. As he regaining some sense, he realized that the air around him was vibrating in regular intervals. Just like a heart beat. He looked sharply down, and there was the fabled great heart of Lorkhan. Sitting inside the Akulakhans chest, waiting to be put into place. Finally! He pushed himself up, took Sunder tightly in Wraith Guard's grip and leapt toward it.

Dagoth paused. His opponent was going for the heart, probably to take power from it and us it to combat him. He quickened his pace, throwing more magicka in his direction. Balthazar knew that using the tools, he could make himself a god, and he'd by lying if he said that the prospect wasn't tempting. However, the corruption of the heart had gone on long enough. He would not be known for eternity as the destroyer of the world. The Blight had to end. 

As he reached ground level, he struck the heart once with Sunder. An almost musical like tone erupted forth, But Balthazar was occupied. He tore Keening from it's sheath around his ankle, holding it blade downward, as if he were going to stab it. 

"What are you doing?" Dagoth screamed, reaching the beginning of the rope bridge that linked the end of the pathway to the Akulakhan. He panicked as Balthazar struck the heart with the blade, shattering the musical tone. "STOP!" He cried, racing toward him. But, even with his speed, he was too late. Balthazar withdrew the blade and stabbed it again. His face twisted with effort, as he had not expected the dead to be this difficult. Dagoth staggered, his power was diminishing. Impossible, he was a god. His access to the heart could never be disrupted! He proceeded forward, preparing to blast Balthazar with every once of Magika he could muster. However, he was far too late. With one more slash, the constrictions on the great heart were severed. History marked this moment, Balthazar could feel the significance of it in his very soul.

Dagoth Ur screamed, the great Hearts power severed from his being. Balthazar looked back, Kenning still in Wraith guard's tight grasp toward Nerevar's old friend, mouth hung open as he watched the Tribunals great enemy evaporate, unable to survive without the heart. It was a solemn and very sobering moment. All the conflict he had endured to get to this point that climaxed at this point. Red Mountain, without it's master thundered with rage, Akulakhan, Dagoth's greatest work, crumbled into dust above him. The very world around the Argonian falling into chaos. 

As he'd expected, Red Mountain could not hold itself together with the pulsing of the heart. Escape now his motivation, Balthazar sheathed the short blade and started about, turning as fast as his legs could carry him away from the collapsing God. His Deadric armour was heavy, but because of years of training, he didn't feel the weight of his on his muscles. He needed the protection, enraged by the destruction of their lord a multitude of Sleepers, Ascended Sleepers and many powerful Daedra leapt from their hiding places, each hurling powerful destructive forces of magic. 

Balthazar just had to make it out of the chamber, and then he could use the Devine Intervention amulet had had tight in the Deadric gauntlet on his left hand to escape. He turned to look back at the endless sea of monstrosities, pushing and climbing past each other to get at him. He needed to slow them down a little. He aimed the right arm toward them; Wraith guards palm open as he ran. He knew few spells, but the ones he did know were potent. This particular one he had made up himself, a focused elemental blast and left enemies incapacitated for near hours on end. It required, however, a great deal of Magicka to cast, and if he used it now he would not be able to defend himself magically from here on in. 

However, he was left with little option when he discovered a trio of Storm Atronatchs blocking his path, each ready to blast him with focused bolts of lighting. Without hesitating, he called forth all the culminated magicka in his body and focused it down his arm. Almost all the heart chamber lit up in fiery shades of red, white, green and blue. The Sleepers chasing him fell instantly, their bodies unable to bear the exposure to such extreme force. The other paused, shielding themselves with magic during the spells duration, the Atronatchs, pausing from their attack look enough for the Argonian Warrior to slip past them and up onto the highest level of the chamber.

He threw himself as the Dwemer crank that worked the door and slowly it opened, grinding against the rusted metal. They crowd of Dagoth followers screamed as Balthazar began running towards to opening door, and his salvation. The spell wore off and they were nearly upon him in their thousands, spells of powerful destructive nature flew through the air, all aimed at him. Despite wearing the belt of the armour of god, a gift from the Justice offices in Vivec, Balthazar knew he would not survive the onslaught. 

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl, each inch in moved seemingly a lifetime. And then, it sped up. 

Balthazar tore through the round steal door, seconds before the fire and ice attacks thrown at him, sealed it shut, closing off the heart chamber forever.

Red mountain screamed and shook furious that its lord's killer had managed to escape alive. Now was the time, Balthazar took the amulet and activated its magic with whatever small amount remained of his own. The spell began working instantly, and he was carried away to safety in a soft white light. As he drifted, the magnitude of the task he had accomplished was finally revealed to him. He'd done it…..he'd actually done it. Dagoth Ur, the curse of Morrowind and all of Tamriel was destroyed, and he had carried out the dead. 

"Neveraine…." A voice called out to him from the light. A voice he knew all too well.

"Azura?" He asked, listening. 

"Incarnate, hero and Saviour of this noble isle. You are no longer shackled by prophecy, you are free." The goddess said to him, her voice soft and comforting. "Congratulations." She added, her grace smiling on him as he floated in limbo. He basked in the smug knowledge of his accomplishment, before he was whisked away, the spelling delivering him with a loud retry to the nearest shrine of the Imperial Cult. 

The loud, distant call of a Cliff Racer forced him to open his eyes, and he was greeted by the puzzled faces of a few Imperial legionaries. He knew exactly where he was. Fort Buckmoth, the legion fort just south of Ald Ruhn. 

Balthazar sat up, his weight supporting on his arms. He groaned and then removed the Ebony, Argonian style helm that he had forced himself, showing his face. A short yellow snout, covered in segmented scales. He had two ram like horns coming out the back of his head and one smaller horn on the end of his snout. A thick mess of almost Kajhit like fur grew just behind the two horns. 

"Wait, this is the Neveraine. You know, those temple acolytes were talking about. Vivec himself just admitted that he was Lord Neverar reincarnate. I recognise him from the description." One of them, a young recruit barely fitting into his black and silver armour exclaimed. They all looked at each other. "He must have just returned from Red Mountain!" Another added, his weight balanced on his spear. They all stared to look at the Argonian, and the Moon and Star ring he was wearing once he pull of Wraith guard. 

"Did you do it?" They al asked at once, more and more guards gathering around him. Balthazar just looked at him with a deliriously happy look on his face. Then he started laughing. He laughed loud and long, falling onto his back, arms spread wide. 

"He did it!" One of them cried. They all exchanged glances, but this only lasted for a moment before they all starting cheering. Raising their weapons up high, several of them starting off toward the town to spread the word that the battle of the Red Mountain was a victory. 

"Dagoth Ur is vanquished!" Balthazar cried to the wind, as if he were speaking to all of Morrorwind. The Imperials around him gave off a loud cry of joy, picking him up and lifting him up onto their shoulders. Normally he was not one to demand such treatment, but since he was still left in the aftermath of the dead, he allowed himself heroes worship this one time. 

He had done it; he had fulfilled the wishes of the Neveraine cult and had bested the evil of Dagoth Ur. It was over, it was finally over. 

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Azura watched her little hero from the safety of limbo. Smiling pleasantly. The people of Tamrial had been spared from a terrible fate and they had this little Argonian to thank for it. 

"I do believe your developing a rather attractive madness Azura." She looked around; approaching her was the Deadra Prince of Madness Sheogorath. "Because you must be insane to think that it is over. He still has many duties to perform, so why did you tell him that he is no longer bound by prophecy?"

"He earned his rest." She replied to the price of madness. "You just don't like him because he helped me win that little wager, you no good cheater." The Deadra prince grumbled loudly.

"I do not dislike him, he has served all the gods. Including Malog Bal, proving that he is just as insane as any of my followers." Sheogorath managed a humoured laugh. "But time will tell, he is Nerevar reincarnate, and as such his destiny is far from fulfilled. He will evict the Empire from Morrowind, whether he wants to or not."


	2. A reluctant offer

Great change was brought about by the Neveraine, a name etched in the stone of history by his now famous actions at Red Mountain one year ago. Ghost Fence was, for lack of a better word, off. The Blight was gone, completely. Whomever was afflicted with the disease was instantly cured, healing miraculously overnight. The Monsters of the Mountain all but withered away, becoming little more than a nuisance to the people of Morrowind. 

Vivec, the so called man god of the Tribunal temple was mortal once more. It was a shock to the temple to see the being they worshiped admit that within years, like all men he would die. 

However, this time of peace would probably not last long, as it depended heavily on the presence of the empire, which was on the verge of collapse. It was no longer a question of **if** the legions would be recalled, more now like…**when**.

Black Marsh manor was a large building in the Ascadian Isles, just south of the Ald Sotha ruins and was a haven for Argonians. The one place, decides the Argoanian mission in Ebonheart, reserved especially for them. It also had a reputation for harbouring run away slaves so it was not uncommon to find parties of Slave hunters waiting in the wilderness outside. They rarely went in to forcibly remove a slave however, as the owner of the establishment was known as a fierce warrior with a severe dislike of intruders. Some claimed he'd fought ten rouge Ordinators and slaughtered them within minutes. The stories where probably nothing more than folk law but they installed a potent fear none the less. The manor was a tall, almost fort like building, made up of several floors with one large tower on the northern side.

A large set of brown oak doors marked the entrance, opening out from a trail to the west toward Vivec's Telvanni Quarter. 

Standing guard outside the entrance to the manor were two large mercenary Orcs, clad in entire sets of Orcish armour and armed with Orcish battle Axes. A very nasty pair called Rock and Roll by the Assassin underworld. Ever slightly lacking in the brains department, but making up for it in raw strength. Not many intruders got past them without having an arm loped off. 

Beyond the doors was the first floor, almost like the upper waist works of the Foreign Quarter in Vivec. The second floor were the owners personal rooms, even the servants didn't know what lay inside as they doors were locked and magically sealed. The third floor was little more than an armoury, a few rooms will with forging tongs and hammers. The tower itself was a single room protected by four sets of battlement on the roof outside. Argonian merchandise from the black marshes was brought here, and while the merchants unloaded their goods, slaves were quietly sneaked on at the dock on the nearby shore to be shipped home. 

Ovas Dren, Founder of the nearby Dren Plantation, frowned up at the tall building. An impressive construct, even more so than his own villa. However his pride forbade him of being jealous of an Argonian dwelling. With four of his own hired men trailing behind him, he marched up toward the door. Ovas was a Dumner, an especially proud example of Dumner, proud if his race and it's past nobility. He had Ashlander ceremonial face paint over his right cheek. His hair was bright blue and styled backwards in several large quill like projects.

He was the brother of Duke Vedam Dren, emissary for the empire in his province, and also a rich and powerful man. Ovas was dressed in Orc armour himself, it's silver surface shining like it were made from ebony. 

"I'm here to se the owner of this establishment." He announced to the two Orcs, his men backing him by standing there looking fierce. Rock, the larger of the two, the one without a helm leaned over to give the smaller creature a good glance.

"You have an appointment?" He asked, poking him on the chest. Ovas batted his large finger away. 

"Of course I do." He said sharply. Which of course was a complete lie, but he would rather not have to get into kind of fight with them. Ovas had contacts in the Commona Tong and they'd told him to watch what he said around them. "Do let me aside, he is expecting me." The two Orcs looked at each other. Ovas held his breath, praying that they were a stupid as they looked.

"I'll see if the Masters busy." Roll muttered, lifting the face mask of his felm up just enough so the Dumner could see the large fangs protruding over his upper lip. Ovas panicked. 

"I'll do it for you!" He quickly added. "I wouldn't want to distract you fine gentlemen from your post." The two orc's hesitated briefly, before stepping aside.

"Go on then." Ovas smiled to himself and walked past them, one two of his men brave enough to step near the Orcs. They backed off, resolving to wait for their master.

"Strong as an Orgim's fist and thick as a Guar's hide." He muttered to his two men as he pushed his way in through the door, that moaned loudly when he did so. One was wearing an old set of Dwemer armour complete with helm, while the other wore a collection of various Nordic pieces. His helm having very Argonian like horns on each side. The inside of the manor was just as he'd expected, crawling with Argonians. At least a dozen of them were there, talking, trading and laughing with one another in their native language. Plants native to the black marshes grew in large clay pots dotted around the room, giving the whole place a very hot a humid atmosphere. A Kahjiit dressed in Chitin Armour stood at the bottom of the light of stairs that lead up to the floor above. Some stopped to stare at Ovas as he proceeded through the room toward the Kahjitt, who stood very with a steal spear. A thick golden mane hanging down each side of his head. 

"Let me through, we do have an appointment." He said casually. The Kahjitt looked him over. 

"Well, you certainly look important." He stood up straight, giving the men behind him a very looking over, examining the swords at their side. "And we have turned away those the master did wish to see before," He added, remembering something fairly unpleasant. "Alright. Come on. But don't try anything." He added, turning toward the stairs. "We had an assassin come in here not long ago, he pushed me down and tried to drive a dagger through the masters head." He paused, putting a finger and a thumb to chin. "I think they found the poor lads body somewhere near Dagon fell." Ovar's men swallowed hard. 

The stair way wrapped around a stone column twice before opening up into a level corridor. Two doors leading into rooms on the other side. Each one was glowing softly, showing that it sealed through magical means. The Kahjiit walked past them, coming to a junction were several corridors met. They were all the same, a very imperial style of make, the support pillars that held with the walls each carved with rather impressive precision. "Go that way." He waved a fury finger along the north corridor, at the far end of which was another flight of stairs. "Be careful through, there's a tame Antorach guarding the entrance to the tower. He won't hurt you, as long you don't give him reason to think your hostile." With that he turned and started back the way he came. "Good luck." 

"This guy isn't a Telvanni wizard is he?" One of Ovas' men asked. Ovas himself gave him a sharp look over his shoulder.

"Of course not." He said sharply, before carrying on, noting more magically sealed doors at he went. His men quickly followed. 

Just as their…guide…had said, standing just at the top of the small flight of stairs was an Antorach, a storm type. It looked back over it's shoulder, watching them carefully. The two men stopped dead still for a moment, before edging around, hands held in front of themselves defensively. Ovas carried on straight forward toward the ordinary looking door at the top of the stairs. "I'll only be a minute, wait here please." He said, on hand on the knob. His men stared at him open mouthed, before they could say anything however he advanced inside. 

The tower was indeed a living space. Everywhere sat tables, on each, lined up in neat rows were various forms of weaponry. Soul gems sitting beside either one, waiting to enchant the swords, maces and bows. The master of this manor odiously had a fascination with Deadric items. Two entire sets of Deadric armour stood side by side at the far side of the tower. One had been adapted for Argonian use. To the left of him was a flight of stone stairs, spiralling upwards toward a trap door in the ceiling above. Quickly he climbed them, hesitating only briefly before pushing the door open and climbing up in the highest room. The chamber above, like the one below as a museum of strange and rare artefacts. A Deadric claymore and battle axe, along with a tower shield formed a crest on the wall nearest to him. The blade of the Claymore was glowing softly orange, showing it had already been enchanted. Another set of armour, this one made from glass stood next to the tables, although these were lined with alchemy equipment and various bottles. A few books sat open on the floor in an untidy mess. Near him, in a glass sat the famous relics that he knew well. A gauntlet, a knife and a hammer. The relics, Wraith Guard, Sunder and Keening.

Standing at the far side of the chamber, next to the double bed was the very Argonian Ovas had come to see.

"Hail Balthazar." He said, walking over. "Or do you prefer to be called Neravar?" The Argonian looked back at him. 

"Neravar is long dead." He replied. He was dressed in an exquisite orange white and white pants, a pair of Ebony braces on his forearms. "Ah, Ovas Dren. To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"You know why I'm here." He replied almost angrily. 

"I have a vague idea, yes." Balthazar walked over, picking up two bottles of Flin from the table. "You drink?" He asked, Ovas nodded and Balthazar tossed him one of the small grey bottles. "Well then, your finally going to move against the empire?" Ovas hesitated, looking around as if he were being watched. "And you have the support of house Hlaalu and the Commona Tong?" Ovas nodded before gently sipping the Flin.

"Of course my brother doesn't know and I'd like to keep it that way for the time being. I would rather my niece weren't in Vivec when I make my move. But she won't listen to me, too caught up in that ridiculous anti slavery thing." Balthazar gave a loud snort through his nostrils to remind his guest that he himself did not approve of slavery.

"And if my memory serves, the prophecy of the Neveraine states that the reborn Neravar with drive the Outlands from Morrowind and restore the Ancient Dark Elven nation." He gave Ovas a look over his shoulder. "That's why you're here isn't it? To ask for my allegiance." 

"The Ashlander tribes all say that they will rise up in support of me if and only if the Neveraine leads the campaign by my side." Ovas relied dryly. Balthazar began working over his alchemy equipment, presently in the process of creating a Magicka resistance potion. 

"Exactly what makes you think I'm going to chase my own people out of Vvardenfel?" He picked up a bottle and shock it, letting the ground Ash yams dissolve inside. Ovas finished his Flin and approached him.

"I understand your reluctance, no one likes to turn against their own. But consider our position. The Empire was forced upon us. They invaded, occupying our lands, forcing the rightful heirs of Morrowind into the inhospitable Ashlands. We have this one chance now to restore our glory, if we miss it, our homeland by be under foreign rule forever." Balthazar corked the bottle, walked over to the shelve and put in on the highest one. "Will you not help us?" 

"When I was in the blades service, my spy master told me that the empire wouldn't last long, he told me to think locally. If I can remember his exact words." He groaned and sat down to a bedside hair, his tail resting gently on the bed itself. "Yes, I will help you." Ovas' heart skipped a beat. A wide smile spreading over his face, "However, I have no wish to become the hero of racists." 

"What do you mean by that?" Ovas asked, frowning. 

"Exactly what I say. I will join you on two conditions." Ovas hesitated, baring his teeth slightly. 

"Name them." Balthazar reached for another bottle of Flin before carrying on. 

"One, our uprising is focusing at the Legions only. No unnecessary Outlander murders, you got me?" Ovas stood staring at him. "And two, once Vvardenfell is liberated, slavery is banned." Ovas was slightly taken aback. 

"You can not be serious." Balthazar stared him down. 

"I've never been more serious." Ovas began stuttering, stunned.

"I can't possibly promise that. The Telvanni and the Ashlanders will eat me alive!" Balthazar paused, enjoying the terrified expression on the Dumner's face.

"Those are my conditions. The ball as they say, is in your court." Ovas began stuttering for another few moments, talking to himself randomly before forcing upon himself some small amount of composure. 

"Surely there is something else we can agree on." Balthazar leaned forward and said ominously…

"Nope."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"A little yes." The Argonian picked himself up and stood directly in front of his guest. 

"It's going to take a great deal of persuasion, but I think I can make it happen." Balthazar smiled evilly. He held up his left hand, showing the white ring on his index finger. 

"That's what Moon and Star was forged for." The legendary Ring of Moon and Star, made for the Ancient Dumner hero Neravar. The ring gave Neravar a potent charismatic power, allowing him to charm whomever he wanted into doing his bidding. It also allowed him to verify his identity, as the ring would kill anyone else who attempted to wear it. This was not something he wanted to do. Far from it as it would probably lead to more wars between Argonia and Vvardenfell. However, the empire had grown increasingly more corrupt over the past year. Uriel Septim was on his death bed, within the month he would be dead. It was, as the mysterious old man Wulf, whom he had meet at Ghostgate said, the empire held Tameriel together for a long time. But it's time for something fresh, something new. He wondered briefly what happened to that old man. And the idea of being remembered at the great ruler of Morrowind, a hero greater even than Neravar, was extremely tempting. 

However, he had an obligation to his own kind to carry out first. "Let us meet again, but this time at Shrenk's Shovel in Caledra. I known one who can help your cause."

"Oh?" Ovas asked, looking interested. 

"I will meet you there in two days. If you make it there before me, speak with Shrenk and ask him to show you to..._the man upstairs, _he will understand_._" The Dumner put his forefinger and thumb on his chin.

"You have certainly developed a flare for the dramatic." He paused briefly. "Exactly who is this one you speak of."

"You'll see." He replied, turning back to his work. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm very busy. Please excuse me if I don't show you out." Ovas stood there, watching him for a moment, before turning, with a large smile on his face toward the trap door.

He left Balthazar to his work and proceeded down into the manor and the reborn Neravar was left to contemplate his decision. He was no fan of the empire most certainly, but he didn't want to be the champion of Argonians enemy. He began to wonder if the conditions he had imposed on Dren, secretly using Moon and Star's power to do so, would be enough to change the destructive tide he saw coming. Most likely not. 

"Master?" Balthazar looked back over his shoulder. Coming up through the trap door was Suriol, his Kahjiit body guard, not that he really needed a bodyguard but he liked to employ him anyway. 

"I've been placed in a rather difficult situation." He replied, solemnly pushing his GrandMaster's morter away from himself and placing his elbows upon the table. "Tell the ship master down at the dock to send a warning out to all Twin Lamps agents. Let them know that the available time to ship slaves out of Vvardenfell is beginning to running out."

Ovas found his men standing as far away from the Storm Antroach as possible, their sight never leaving the monstrosity for a moment. He walked past them and as soon as he was clear of the corridor they hurried after them, the Antorach firing a small ball of lighting at them playfully. 

"Keep an eye on this place will you?" He asked one of his men. "He may be the Neveraine, but he is also an Outlander. I want to make sure he doesn't have any sudden fits of conscience." 


	3. The man upstairs

A harsh storm had blown in off the inner sea and was rolling in across the West Gash region, and so when Ovas Dren reached the rather shabby looking Inn in the Imperial Mining town Caledra, it was already pouring down with rain. His spiky hair was matted, trailing down each side of his face, leaving him in such an un-presentable state he'd put on an Orc helm. There weren't very many Imperial guards patrolling the streets of the small town, a sight which pleased him. This was sight of the rich ebony mines, just over the ridge to the north west. It was a relatively small town, compared to larger settlements like Ald Ruhn of Balmora. If not for the mine, the town probably won't even have the proud Governors hall, standing on a large hillock at the north eastern end of the town. Which by now was near deserted. The empire was withdrawing more troops to protect it's own body every month. The time was nearly here. Soon they would not be enough of the occupying legions left to stop them. The empire would be driven out, it was now only a matter of time. It was near the dead of night by the time he arrived, a warm, welcome glow coming from the windows all around.

He had come here without a procession of soldiers, dressed in common robes in an attempt to confuse the imperial guards. He did not want to give anyone the impression that he was up to something. He only had one body guard with him, dressed in Dwemer armour under a robe. A long poison sword concealed about him.

The inside the of the imperial tavern was just like an other building in Caledra. The walls made of thick, imported oak. Imperial banners hanging wherever there was space. A lot of Imperial men were here, sitting around the tables and bar, laughing at each others jokes over bottles of Sujmma and Brandy. The downstairs of the tavern was segmented into two rooms, the door opening out into the one of the right hand side. Some stairs ascended up the right wall to the floors beyond. An Imperial officer stood guard, a precaution in chase those who hadn't made, attempted to use the beds. Light came from Tavern lanterns sitting in the middle of the tables, two were hanging on either side of the door as they walked through it. 

Shenk, the owner of the tavern was a well built RedGuard. His hair was raven black and he was partially bald. He was attending to the order of an Altmer when Ovas approached him.

"What's ya pleasure?" He asked, leaning on the bar with one elbow. 

"I'm here to see the man upstairs." Ovas replied, trying to sound as casual as possible, but still managed to keep his voice lower than the dull rumble of conversation that buzzed in the air. Shenk froze, his smile fading. 

"I see." He said eventually. He stood up straight, starching the back of his head and breathing out in a loud sigh. "He's not in at the moment, but he should be back before dawn." Ovas stood there, puzzled slightly. "He spends most nights out." He added, before turning to another customer. "Do sit down and I'll bring you a meal while you wait." And so he took the advice and seated himself at a vacant, his bodyguard sitting next to him. Eventually Shrenk came around with some Sujmma and took their order. 

After about half an hour, they were presented with the Karma eggs and Brandy that they'd ordered. 

Personally, Ovas hated Karma eggs, but if he ordered something it made the two of them looked less conspicuous. Hours began to pass after they finished their meal, and they sat there, silently waiting. Others around them came and went, less and less of them filling the inn was the night dragged on. In his head, he ran through what had been said the night before when he had meet with his allies to plan their attack on the Empire.

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"A direct uprising isn't going to be an option." He told the small council, made up of all four Ashlander ashkhans, a few house Hlaalu officials and many of his own Commona Tong elite assassins. "The empire, even with it's depleted numbers is going to be entrenched in their forts. And on top of that, give them so much of as a day as they could call for reinforcements. No, our takeover has to be silent as swift as any of my men." He added, gesturing to the Lenith brothers leaning against a nearby fall, a proud smile on their faces. 

"What of the Imperial Guilds here in Morrowind?" Sul-Matuul, clan leader of the Urshilaku Ashlanders asked. He was an incredibly old Dumner, his face fraught with wrinkles and the signs of tiredness, but behind his eyes burned still potent youth. "Are they rising to protect the Empire while the Legions are being withdrawn?" 

"As far as we can tell, they have employed a few from the Fighter's guild to Protect Buckmoth Legion Garrison but apart from that no." Ovas replied, waving his hand over a large map of Vvardenfell he had stretched over the table, the corners held down by candles. Each fort, Ebonheart, Moonmoth, Wolverine Hall, Darius, Peligrad and Buckmooth were marked by large red crosses. The fear that the Empire could employ the mages guild, or possibly even the Telvanni to protect them had been elevated when the Mages Guild declared, not officially, that because they were a multi racial society they would side with no one. The Telvanni had said nothing, but they always said nothing to a topic they couldn't give a toss about.

"What sort of numbers are we expecting to face?" Ashkhan of the Zaniab, Kaushad. Wildly known as an idiotic playboy, but had settled down with a Telvanni noble's daughter about a year ago. 

"Should be minimal." Ovas replied. "According to our spies, the populace of the all the forts has been halved. I reckon about 300 to 350 imperial legionaries are left in Morrowind. " A soft murmur emitted around them all, apart from the Wise woman Sinnammu Mirpal, who was representing her clan since the Ahemmusa had no ashkhan.

"That's all very well." She said in an impatient tone. "But tell us, will Neravar reborn be aiding us in this venture?" Ovas was silent for a moment.

"I spoke to him yesterday, and he agreed to join us." He replied, standing up from his head, the tips of his fingers resting on the table. Everyone seemed pleased by this new of course,

"I'm sensing a but…" The wise woman said keenly, leaning forward.

"But, in order to secure his allegiance I had to agree to two conditions." 

"Conditions?"

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Balthazar's ultimatums had not been popular…

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When Ovas was sure most of the night had elapsed, An Argonian came into the Inn. Balthazar had made now attempt to disguise himself, dressed in his famous Argonian adapted Deadric armour. The boots of the armour had been adapted to fit over the large, arched feet of the lizard men and the helm had been bent into shape to fit a Argonian snout. Over his tail, several pieces of the black metal had been fitted together by hinges as a sort of rear guard. Fitted into a sheath on his left hand side was the glowing Deadric claymore Ovas had seen at his manor. The blade was known around Vvardenfell as Elemental, the first Deadric Blade to be enchanted in Morrowind. A blade used by Neravar himself at one time, long before the battle of Red Mountain. 

__

(Made up weapon, my first enchantment) 

By now, everyone apart from Shrenk, themselves and a few guards were the only ones there. The guard were half asleep, expecting for the early morning shift to come and relieve them. 

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting." Balathazar said with a flick of his wrist. For an Argonian, Balathazar was very well spoken, his speech craft fluent and swift. Hardly anything like the literal translated words of his Argonian brothers. "Ah Shrenk. Is he home?" The Red guard gave a glance out the window at the black night. 

"Probably, it is near dawn." Ovas and his body guard rose from the table.

"Good." He turned to the Argonian as he softly padded into the room. Balthazar's helm had a kagouti like frill protecting his neck. Several large horns sprouting out at each end. Shrenk came out from behind the pair, holding a key in his right hand. 

"Follow me please." The Red Guard lead them up the stairs past the guard, who watched them all carefully.

"Your friend will have to wait here." Balathazar said once they'd reached the top of the stairs. Ovas and his Bodyguard exchanged glances, before Ovas himself nodded and his companion stayed were he was. Ovas saw more of the Imperial banners when they ascended to the second floor, and even more once they climbed up another to the highest floor in the Inn. Ovas could not wait to see the day when he could tear them down and burn them in front of a cheering crowd. The third floor was a landing, with a long corridor leading down toward a single door at the far end. They walked slowly toward it. The door was an ordinary sort, nothing special to note about it, but for some reason Ovas could feel it's tension. As if what lay beyond strained against the wood work, but intentionally, but by it's radiating presence alone, distorted the general feel of reality. 

"Your friend.." He began, turning towards the Argonian. "Think you can tell me exactly who he is now?" Balthazar game him a coy look before answering.

"I met the man outside Ghost Gate of all places." He laughed slightly. "He was waiting there, standing just outside the gates. An impressive figure for anyone to behold. 

As I approached him, he drew his blade. A long claymore, the metal as black of Deadric but engraved with green runes not red.. He told me that had been sent by Azura, and that the only way I could progress to Red Mountain was to defeat him in combat, for if I could not best him, then I would never conquer Dagoth Ur and his followers." Ovas stared, conserving the small story with some thought. "Well, since I'm standing here now, you can tell exactly who won."

Shrenk put the key in the lock, hesitated for a moment, before unlocking the room. Then, quickly he retracted the key and fled, vanishing downstairs before either of them could say anything. It was then Ovas was beginning to think that he really would like his bodyguard here.

Balthazar paused, his hand resting on the door's handle. He turned to look the Dumner straight in the eyes.

"Once we're past this door, I'd let me do the talking if I were you." Ovas raised an eye brown questioningly. "My…friend…" He continued, carefully picking his way on the word _Friend_. "Is extremely temperamental." With that, he pushed the door open, the oak panels swinging inward.

The room was a large bedroom, probably to be shared by a group of people. A bunk bed stood in the far left hand side corner. Several closest, chests of drawers and cabinets stood in various places around the room. A drinks raw stood next to the bed, several bottles of wine sitting in their containers. Candles lit the room, some on the cabinets and other from a wooden chandelier that hung from the arched roof. Two tables stood in the centre of the room, covered in different varies of arrows. Steal Arrows, Iron arrows, Silver Arrows, Wasting Spark Arrows, and so on. On the next table were an assortment of bows, cross bows and short bows. The owner of this room was obviously an archer of some sort. Every piece of wood from the furniture to the ceiling rafters was made out of imported Imperial pine. 

"I see no one." Ovas said, looking around in puzzled. Balathazar however remained transfixed.

"Oh, he's here alright." He replied, drawing Elemental with the loud hiss. As if brought to life by the blades presence, the room was imbuing with life. Nothing moved however, but the radiating presence was felt just the same. Ovas began to wonder if leaving his body guard downstairs was a good idea. "Stay close." Balthazar muttered. "And leave the talking to me." Soft whispers began drifting out of the dark corners, condensing quickly in a strong, undeniable, disembodied voice. 

"What do you want?" It demanded angrily.

"To make you an offer." Balthazar replied, stepping forward into the room. Ovas remained perfectly still, trying to find the speaker. But found that his eyes failed to see anyone other than themselves. The voice broke into a soft, humoured laughter. Every shadow now seemed to be stirring, like it alive, dancing like the flames of a wild camp fire. 

"An offer." It repeated, sounding amused. "You have nothing I desire, be gone." Ovas remained comatose, scared although he would never admit it, out of his skin. 

"What we come to offer you is not of material procession." Balthazar quickened added, making his presence known by drawing Elemental, the illuminating glow of the blade dulling the vicious atmosphere of the room. "We come to offer you vengeance." The voice remained silent for a while, as if contemplating the words. During which time, Ovas edged closer to the Argonian. 

"Balthazar, what manner of creature are you conversing with?" Balthazar looked back over his shoulder casually. Before he could reply however, the voice spoke again…

"I require far more than simple vengeance." Balthazar appeared somewhat uneasy at that point, hesitating for a moment before replying. 

"Whatever hunger gnaws at you, our cause will satisfy it."

"What cause?" The voice was growing harsher, becoming displeased with the whole conversation. Every shadow had increased in size, holding the illusion of a tarrying monster hiding in every crevice. 

"The eviction of the empire." Ovas blurted out before he could help himself. Forgetting the warning Balthazar had given him. The sudden change brought over the room, the shadows now came to life, left the sheltered crevices and spaces behind the furniture and speed across the room, defying the light. They raced past Balthazar before the Argonian could lit a finger to stop it. Ovas stood rooted to the spot, completely petrified, helpless to stop the darkness as it convulsed on him. Like a swarm of Korma foragers, sliding, slithering, crawling around him, before sliding into one and materialising in a burst of material. Before Ovas could scream, a hand clamped itself over his mouth, silencing him. His eyes wide open in fear, now stared at the creature they had been speaking with, revealed in it's true form. Another Dumner, dressed in an entire set of Netch leather armour. Several daggers were tied by pieces of string to his gauntlets. A long bow, probably a steal longbow slid into a sheath on his back. His hair was raven black and arranged in a sleek side parting, two large pointed ears lancing almost upwards. However, Ovas could see the pair of fangs in his mouth, the blank white eyes and the pale skin around the cheeks. He was a vampire…

The glowing tip of Elemental passed underneath his throat. Balthazar held his weapon there for several seconds, gently tapping the vampire's skin to let him know exactly where this situation would unfold out if he did not release his prey. The vampire shut his mouth, his fangs disappearing. The gave Ovas a very stern glare.

"Scream, and you'll be dead before you hit the floor." The vampire whispered to him, before gently releasing him. Ovas pulled away hard, breathing hard, backing up against the closed door. "Move your blade." Balthazar chuckled at the vampire's short words, before sheathing Elemental. 

"Ovas, my I introduce, Shadow." He stated, stepping quickly between the two of them. The two Dumner stared each other down. 

"Balthazar, I'm surprised at you. Talking with this unholy creature." Ovas said, still in shock. Shadow invaded Ovas' personally space, glaring at him angrily.

"Do NOT push your luck!" Ovas reached for his sword, but was deterred by a warning glance from Balthazar. Due to the markings and runes like tattoos running down the left hand side of his face, Ovas could tell that his…Shadow…was a member of the Berne Clan. Vampires that specialise in the arts of stealth. But the long claws on the edge of each of his fingers showed he was odiously also an ancient. Vampires that have…lived…for at least several centuries. 

"Ovas Dren. I know that name." The vampire circled Ovas from a distance of a few feet, inspecting him with a critical eye. Ovas felt enraged that this unholy creature thought himself so high above him as to be worthy of scepticism. "Leader of the Commona tong scum. I much prefer the Morag tong to you butchers. Both of you kill, but the Morag do it far more _discreetly_." Ovas took it as a direct insult. Shadow turned to stare at the Argonian. 

"You call on me with Elemental, to help this cause? You know there is nothing I would love more than to see the Imperial worms flee in terror. But I have seen too many failed attempts over history to even image it worth the hassle." He chuckled, folding his arms. "And who will lead you into battle?"

"I will!" Ovas proclaimed proudly. Shadow narrowed his eyes at Dren, and then a wide smile crept over his face, one fang descending out from his lips. 

"This school boy! The general that fights against the empire? HA!" The vampire put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "You'll all be slaughtered within the first five minutes." He turned, walking back into the room. "I leave you to your lost cause gentlemen." Ovas, in a rage, stepped forward nearly drawing his blade. 

"You piece of filth, not only a vampire but a coward to boot!" Shadow stopped dead and slowly turned to fix him with a piercing glare. Before either Balthazar of Ovas could move, he drew his long bow, pulled back on a steal arrow that he drew from seemingly nowhere and fired the projectile towards the Dumner. It whistled back Ovas's left ear and sank deep into the wall behind him. 

"I take abuse with gentle humour, but I will not tolerate accusations of cowardice." He sheathed his bow as Ovas stared, rather unsteadily at the arrow. " Your cause however will most likely leave anyone who participates dead." He smiled. "But as you can see, I am already undying." 

"So you'll help us then?" Balthazar asked, coming around Shadow's side. 

"I didn't say that." Shadow retreated, stepping backwards into the room, as if returning to some sanctuary. "But," He added quickly. "If along your endeavour, your are aided by the sudden and unexplainable death of your enemies, do my a favour and cast the praise in my direction." With that, he dissolved into shadow again, vanishing as the light reclaimed dominion. Quickly Balthazar pushed Dren backwards toward the doorway and once outside it, shutting the large oak door behind them. The loud blank the lock made as it clamped shut was ominously loud. The two of them remained silent for a moment.

"Well, that went as well as could be expected." Balthazar muttered, sighing wearily. Ovas shook his head.

"You have some bizarre friends." He stated, widened one eye at the relieved Argonian. "I'm surprised you even tolerate that unholy beasts presence." Balthazar laughed heartily. 

"That's what I find fascinating about you dark elves, you fanatical innocence and stupidly."


End file.
